


unnerfing christmas

by r0wlets



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8981932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets
Summary: Guzma never saw the appeal of Christmas. Santa was for chumps. Yet he's gotta be the very best for his new family. Oneshot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s some happy family stuff to make all y’all happier during the holidays.

_unnerfing christmas_

Guzma clawed at the oversized, itchy fabric that he was wearing. He wasn’t used to wearing any color other than black, white, and gray nowadays. Red? Red usually meant a chump color, an asshole color, and he wasn’t an asshole. He was just everyone’s boy. Santa was a chump, too, and he didn’t know why he was playing Santa. Santa gave presents to everyone in the world, for free, without expecting any payment back? Nah. His pops told him Santa was a fake-ass chump before he could even _walk_. These Alolan kids were being bamboozled.

But Gladdo hadn’t had a good Christmas in years, so it was up to him and the others to make it the best Christmas ever.

He pulled at his beard again, grimacing, when Wicke stepped into the living room. She didn’t even _have_ to celebrate Christmas, yet there she was in a matching outfit and high-heel boots, holding a plate of cookies with one hand. Pulling his beard back to his face, she swatted at his hat’s puff ball and kissed him on the forehead. “Getting cranky?” she asked, giggling.

“Ye, Grandma. This Santa suit is cramping my style,” Guzma growled, snatching one of the cookies.

It was delicious. Wicke sagged her shoulders and gave him a look, and he returned The Look with a thumbs-up. If he learned anything from sharing the rent with her and Plums in these past months, it was to always compliment her cooking. At least her cooking was fantastic. She tugged at his beard again. “You could still be one of the elves if you really want.”

A deadpan voice rung out, “Yes, join us.”

Guzma squinted at the mess that was the Elf Squad. The voice belonged to Nanu, looking as serious as always despite donning the full elf apparel and carrying Acerola, who had her arms wrapped around his neck. Plumeria wore a festive ponytail and tailored her elf suit to include ripped sleeves and a Nerf gun. Faba looked the same as always with just a simple striped sweater, and Molayne’s elf suit was two sizes too small for him because practically nothing ever fit his tall, lanky body. Together they all squatted and raised their fingers in the air, except Plumeria, who shot a Nerf bullet at his forehead. He grunted and took another cookie. “Think ‘ll pass.”

“Fabafababababean didn’t wear his elf suit to~day~ the stinky!” 

Acerola made the cat hand motions. Guzma squatted to her level and flicked her nose. “And which one o’ ya am I speakin’ to today, squirts?”

“Mememe~ oh! And Cat Savagebuns! They wanted to play with the gift wrap. I don’t blame ‘em!”

Cat Savagebuns, actually called Melvin. Guzma could tolerate them both. When Acerola’s Hydreigon alter popped up, she tended to try and break his arm every time they arm wrestled. The teenager had _moves_. Plumeria shot another bullet at him. He pulled the hat more down to cushion his forehead from further impact. “You’re havin’ fun with that. That for Gladdo?”

“No, this is for me. Me and Wicke wrapped him up the deluxe one.”

“And where’s mine?”

Plumeria raised an eyebrow. “At the store.”

“C’mon, Plums, don’t be like that! We said that if we were ever gonna start Nerf warfare, y’all were gonna get me one so that we can all be in this togeth- ow! C’mon!”

“Wasn’t me.”

Molayne quickly hid his hands behind his back and whistled. Nanu smirked. Plumeria shot another bullet, this time at Faba, and Wicke leaned against the wall, looking at him. He looked back, oblivious to what she was thinking. Maybe Plums didn’t get a Nerf gun for him because she had to be careful with her finances, but Wicke…he still had a chance with Wicke, didn’t he? Then he could be a Nerf pro and teach Gladion all the mad skills before Plums could. 

Before he could bother to ask, though, Wicke shook her head. “It’s a secret even to Santa. Why don’t you check up on the kids, though? I haven’t seen Gladion down in a while.”

“Santa wants two more cookies before he checks.”

Wicke shoved one cookie into his mouth and the other into his pocket. This time he gave two thumbs-ups and an awkward pat on the back, and he moved along upstairs. Gladion usually _was_ the quiet type, but he didn’t want to assume anything around the holidays. Last year - not that he was in a clear state of mind to do much - that boy left Po Town two days before Christmas and did not return until three days after the new year. Holidays were always a sore spot for him. Not that Guzma blamed him.

What he did _not_ expect was shrill screaming coming from the second floor, followed by Gladion running halfway across the hallway wearing just some awkward, bright, neon green pants and one elf ear. Before the boy could crash into him, he scooped him up with one hand and lifted him up to his shoulder, narrowly avoiding Hau’s tackle. So, this was what a real family Christmas was like. “What are you squirts doin’?”

“ _I’m_ not _wearing that dorky elf costume!_ ”

“Whoa. Grinch. Ya got candy canes stuck up your ass or somethi-”

But he could hear Gladion sniffle and cling to his itchy Santa suit, so he stopped. Instead he leaned against the wall with one hand, Gladion still tucked under his other arm, and raised an eyebrow at Hau. “Malasada Buddy, take two and sit down ‘cause Pops gotta lay down the boundaries. Y’know Gladdo here panics sometimes when he’s pushed inta things. Don’t stuff him in a suit if he don’t wanna be in one.”

Hau looked downcast but nodded. Sophocles waddled out of the room, Togedemaru on his shoulder, with just his usual clothes and a Santa hat. Looks like the kids weren’t that keen on being elves, either. Hau was completely elfed out with blinking lights on his sweater and everything, but he always took things to the next level, the adorable squirt. Guzma shook his head and ate the other cookie. Why didn’t he ask Wicke for more cookies? “You squirts are as spunky as me when I was a kid! Although I never really had much of a Christmas. Me and my pops used to just go to the bowling alley or the mini-golf course, and I played while we shared a twelve-pack.”

From beneath him he could feel Gladion glare at him. “As a kid?”

“Pops thought kids could drink on Christmas. Y’all can’t.”

Gladion sunk deeper in his armhole. Good, he was loosening up. “One Christmas Lillie and I got to taste a little champagne. Dad gave us each a sip behind…behind her back. I swallowed it, but it was disgusting. Lillie spat hers out and he laughed.”

“I’d’ve given you the whole damn cup a few years ago, but none now. Ya dad was a chump. Same with ya hag. C’mon, squirts, don’t drink the booze ‘til ya legal. Good advice from ya boy, Santa!” Guzma laughed. “Now Grandma’s made cookies and they’re the bomb’s bomb, so let’s go get some. C’mon, squirts!”

They walked together downstairs, and Guzma practically forgot Gladion was under his arm until Wicke giggled and Plumeria shot yet another bullet at him. Frowning, he let the boy go and squatted, finger gunning at her direction. Gladion looked down at him and smirked. “Pops, you’re such a dork.”

“Hey, hey, ya boy’s not a dork! And you ain’t got no shirt on! You can’t just walk around with elf pants a binder on unless ya make your binder festive, too.”

“I’ll only accept a festive binder if you hot glue peppermints to it.”

“…that can be arranged.”

“Absolutely not, Pops.”

They glared at each other. Guzma scratched his beard and grunted as he took off his Santa hat and pushed it on top of Gladion’s head. The boy’s face flushed, and he spluttered and clawed at the god-awful, oversized hat but finally pulled it over his eyes and narrowed his eyes further. This called for a tickle fight or some pro-wrestling stunt, but before he could pull his hands out of his pockets, he was restrained on both ends. “He-hey, what?!”

Gladion was also restrained. Their looks of annoyance turned to that of confusion as Wicke stood between them, smirking while she still held the cookie plate in one hand. Her other hand was shrouded underneath her holiday cloak. Then, slowly, his eyes widened as she revealed one deluxe Nerf gun. Of course. Grandma would also have the ultimate gun power. Aiming it right across from his forehead, he couldn’t help but sweat as she squatted down to match his squat and grinned wickedly. Holy crap on a popcorn string, where was _this_ Wicke? “Executive Christmas punishment from Santa Grandma,” she purred. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”

A chocolate hit his forehead. He fell back and foamed at the mouth, swirlies replacing his eyes. Over him he could feel Gladion shake him over and over as the house burst into laughter. If this was what Santa had to deal with during the other 364 days of the year, maybe the old punk wasn’t such a chump after all.

But when he came to again and saw Gladion in tears, half-anxious, half-laughing, he couldn’t help but grin. This might’ve just been the best Christmas yet.


End file.
